


Kentucky Fried Voudon for the On-the-Go Hunter

by Zanne



Series: Possessed Car 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanne/pseuds/Zanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries to exorcise the Impala.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kentucky Fried Voudon for the On-the-Go Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by lyonie17. Papers of ownership for The Pretty belong to Kripke. (Originally posted: 12/31/06)

Dean woke up to the faint sound of chanting from outside the motel room.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, quelling his natural desire to burrow back under the covers after casting a cautious eye at the empty bed across from him. _Sam’s at it again._ Yawning hugely, Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed and ruffled a hand through his hair. _Gotta go save my car._

Dean couldn’t even count the number of times he’d awakened in the morning over the past year to find his car altered in some way. Once, he’d spent nearly a week vacuuming salt from the crevices of his seats. Then there were the times he’d had to wash remnants of blessed oils from the bumpers. He’d opened the glove box to a cascade of healing crystals on more than one occasion. The one that still got him laughing was Sam’s attempt at feng shui in the weapons cache. Dean chuckled sleepily at the memory as he zipped up his jeans, leaving the top button open as he rubbed his hand across his bed-warm belly.

 _Why does Sam always have to do this in the middle of the night?_ Dean briefly wondered, before his eyes popped open wide with anticipation. _Maybe he was trying that Wiccan skyclad thing again. That one was fun to watch!  
_  
Dean forgot all about his shirt and tore open the door like a kid at Christmas, only to find Sam disappointingly fully clothed and placing pieces of fried chicken on the hood of the Impala.

Dean covered his face with his hand, not knowing whether to laugh or to curse and definitely not wanting to see the mess being made of his car, before running his hand back through his already mussed hair to cup the back of his head.

“Sam?” he asked patiently, sneaking a look around for witnesses to his brother’s insanity. “Why are you putting KFC on my car?”

Sam stared across the shimmering blackness of the Impala’s metal form, his eyes traveling slowly over Dean’s pearlescent skin, as if Dean were purposefully designed in diametric opposition to his vehicle. A tantalizing vision flashed across his mind’s eye – that white, glowing body sprawled across the hood of the inky black car. Sam’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he sorted through various explanations, half-truths, and flat out lies that Dean might buy while forcefully suppressing that image and storing it away in the back of his mind, limply holding a piece of chicken in one hand while he cupped the familiar red striped bucket to his chest protectively. _Yeah_ , he thought, _like a cooked chicken will save me from Dean._ Sam squeezed every lawyerly brain cell he had left, but failed to come up with anything even close to believable at Dean’s impatient throat clearing, so he opted for the truth instead, hoping his brother was still too sleepy to think about it. “Because I couldn’t, in good conscience, kill a chicken for this myself,” he mumbled, peeking out from under his bangs.

 _Oh_ , Dean raised an eyebrow. _So Sam has finally ventured into a voudon exorcism._ He thanked any god that was listening that Sam had vetoed the killing of a chicken on his car – blood could be a bitch to get off without ruining the shine of the paint. But he still had the problem of chicken grease spotting his baby.

“Any chicken left?” Dean asked, wandering over to grab a piece out of the bucket. He carefully selected a leg and started gnawing on it as he leaned provocatively against the fender nearest his brother, the moonlight highlighting the smears of grease on Dean’s lips and accenting the hard planes of his chest as he casually stroked the car’s hood with his hand in a subtle soothing motion.

Sam looked enthralled as he watched Dean’s palm skim over the moonlit blue-black skin of the Impala, Sam’s mouth falling open and his eyes glazing with… _was that lust? Yes!_ Dean thought triumphantly.

Dean nonchalantly tossed the bone into the bucket still in the stiff grip of his slack-jawed brother. “Clean up my car before the men with white coats come to take you away.” Dean took a few steps towards the motel room, trailing his fingers teasingly along the grille of his car, and paused, glancing over his shoulder towards his brother with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Oh, and Sam? If you do this again, try the naked Wiccan ritual. That’s my favorite.” _And it doesn’t leave stains…._ With a muffled snicker at the shocked look coloring his brother’s features, Dean strolled into the motel room to plan his next move.  



End file.
